


Smoothing Out the Edges

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: The Lives Within [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM mention, F/M, HighSpecs, Ignea, after altissia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: Ignis is the one who took care of everyone else, but it seems like everyone else is failing him when he needs extra help. Aranea can't solve much, but she can help that.





	1. Chapter 1

Aranea Highwind knew men. Well, she knew people in general but men were a whole lot easier to read most of the time. That was probably because she’d spent most of her adult life surrounded by them instead of in the stuffy confines of proper drawing rooms like her mother had wanted her to.

But she knew men and she knew that these three very young, very anxious men in front of her were coming apart at the seams. She also suspected that they were doing it to each other. She had no idea what to do about it when it came to Gladiolus and anything she had done would be wrong anyway because he was one jump ahead of a fit and didn’t want to admit it. And the Prince was in the place that she called ‘getting there’ with whatever he was working through in his head, so her interference risked that.

But Ignis?

Well, she wasn’t sure that there was anything real and helpful that she could do for him. Not right now. She’d seen men hurt. Limbs mangled or gone, permanent memory loss from being Confused. Hell, Wedge had next to no sense of smell from a bad run in with a flan on his first mission out. She’d even watched men go blind before, but something about watching him stand far too still or stumble every few steps made her stomach turn.

It was probably stupid, but the more she watched him the more she just did not care at all. Sure, they’d both agreed at Steyliff Grove that this thing between them was only physical. Mutually beneficial, non-exclusive, no strings attached. He’d said and she’d agreed that it made no sense at all to attempt to do otherwise given their relative positions and allegiances.

Her allegiance was given to whoever paid up and it’d been a long time since there’d been anything flowing from Gralea other than daemons. She considered that done and over a month ago. Had it really only been a month? Had the whole world gone to hell that fast?

She watched Ignis a little longer as Gladio hovered ineffectually behind him, always about a half second too late to catch him when he fell. Noctis didn’t even pay that much attention to him. She could understand that, actually. He’d relied on Ignis for a lot and the switch from being in control to being nearly helpless was more than he could cope with.

They were all just a bunch of kids anyway.

As Noctis walked away to go meet with the Oracle’s attendant who just insisted on it, Aranea shifted her whole attention to Ignis. No, there probably wasn’t anything really helpful she could do there. She couldn’t give him back his confidence, couldn’t restore his vision or his coordination. Nothing but time could do that and, if she was being honest,  there didn’t feel like there was a lot of time left for anything.

But she wanted to. She wanted to help him. Wanted to comfort him somehow, be useful. She wasn’t all lovey-dovey falling in love with him, but you didn’t let a guy tie you up, gag you, and fuck you senseless and walk away indifferent to him, either. Plus, he looked rough. His hair was kind of a mess, the circles under his eyes were almost black, and he hadn’t shaved in at least two days, she was sure. And was that a coffee stain on his cuff?

Aranea allowed herself a few minutes to be very, very angry with his friends for not being more attentive to his needs before reining her temper back in. There was something she could do for him even if it wouldn’t change anything at all.

Noctis was still off on his errand and he could take his sweet time as far as she was concerned. “Hey Brutus,” she called to Gladio as she approached, “Do me a favor. Go get Spec’s stuff and bring it back to my ship.”

Gladio gave her a hard look, frowning as if he was going to refuse out of sheer stubbornness. She silenced him and sent him on his way with a single quirk of her eyebrow and a wave of her hand before turning to where Ignis was sitting very, very still.

“Aranea, I am not really in the mood to…,” he began.

“Yeah, I’m not either,” she cut him off. “But you look like shit and it’s making me mad. So shut up and pretend to be agreeable.” She reached out a hand and tugged at his elbow, surprised when he went along without a word.

Once he was upright, she took his hand and started off at a slow but steady pace toward her drop ship. Steering him around holes and crates with tugs and small pushes in the right direction along with verbal commands – “Rock at two o’clock.” – they made it across the patchy grass to her ship and on board without incident.

“Stay here for a second,” she said, dropping his hand and leaving him hanging in what could have been any amount of limbo. From the sound of her voice, and the various clicks, slams, and one very strange zipping noise, he guessed that wherever he was wasn’t the main bay, but some smaller area. He extended a hand and it collided with something hard, about waist height. Metal, but with some other type of top to it. A countertop? Furniture? Who knew?

Aranea returned to her cabin to find Ignis running an unsteady hand over the top edge of the cabinet where she kept maps, letters, and foldable clothes. He looked so lost and it hit her hard how helpless he must feel and how much that must drive him insane. She reconsidered her approach to this plan.

“It’s a tight squeeze,” she remarked, taking his hand again and leading him into her bathroom. Calling it a bathroom was making it a whole lot grander than it was. “But that will probably help.”

He didn’t resist as she nudged him through the narrow door and stepped in behind him. “Ever been in a First Class overnight rail cabin?”

“Yes,” he answered, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Good, then you’ll get this.” She lifted his hand and started at the doorframe, sliding over the smooth walls. “Shower controls are here. The hot is always warm because the plumbing is a patched in job. Here’s the hose for the shower head, then the towels are up a little higher here.”

He turned as she walked him through everything as. The tiny sink with soap and shampoo nearby, the toilet and the little trapdoor where the toilet paper was. “You’ll have to hit it pretty hard. It sticks when it gets warm.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ignis asked when she finished the tour of the room. He looked so tired now that it made her heart hurt. But that’s not what he needed to hear and that wasn’t what she was going to tell him.

“Because you’re gross and this is a one-ass bathroom,” she answered, pinching his cheek. “Now strip and give me your clothes. You look like you’ve been rolling in mud.”

The ghost of a smile tugged at one side of his mouth and he did as he was told, admitting, “Well, I have in a way. But not willingly.”

“Yeah? So the career in mud wrestling isn’t working out?” she teased. “What a pity. I was looking forward to watching you.”

“You would,” he returned, actually taking the time to fold his pants and boxers before handing them over.

Aranea rolled her eyes and started to say something in return, feeling like they were almost back to normal when Gladio’s voice echoed through the ship. “Oh good, now you won’t have to smell like lilac fields. Hold the water a minute.”

She dropped Ignis’s laundry on the bed and met Gladio halfway through the bay. She nodded her thanks and turned to leave him there when he caught her arm.

“We’re heading out of here as soon as we can. Don’t keep him long.”

Gladio grated on her nerves at the best of times, his attitude and manners reminding her way too much of too many know-it-all punks who had come through her ranks over the years, more brute force than common sense; more narrow vision limiting their understanding of the bigger picture. Plus, he never seemed to know when to stop.

“I’m keeping him tonight,” she snapped, flicking his hand off her arm, “Because he needs sleep.” And somebody to actually look after him, but she had better sense than Gladio about when to shut the hell up.

“Noct needs …”

“Time to make a plan. And before you run off at the mouth about staying with His Majesty to protect or guide or advise him, maybe you need to step up to the plate and do some of that yourself.” A hand on her hip, she cocked her head to the side and fired, “Unless you aren’t capable of being anything but a sword arm.”

That shot told and Gladio fumed, turning to stomp off in a huff. And that reaction told her everything she needed to know about his state of mind right then. If he wasn’t willing to stand there and tangle with her, then he was in no better shape than anybody else.

Not her problem though, and she rummaged through Ignis’s bag, finding his shampoo but not his soap in the tossed around contents. She added that to the mental list of things she was going to deal with while he got clean.

“Lilac fields it is, but you are saved the embarrassment of ulwaat scented hair,” she announced as she lifted his arm and handed over the bottle.

“My dignity thanks you.”

“That’s rich coming from you right now.”

He conceded with a shrug, she double checked to make sure he was comfortable enough with the room to manage and shut the door, waiting until she heard the water and no screaming before she moved again.

First things first, she traded out her armor for leggings and a tank top, then pitched his clothes in the small washer/dryer to start when he was done with the water. She dumped the contents of his bag on her bunk and started sifting through the mess of it. It wasn’t as bad near the bottom, somebody had at least tried to fold and roll and save space, but the top layers were a wreck. She left out boxers, a worn-soft tee, and a pair of cotton sleep pants, but everything else went back in, rolled tight and small with some sort of identifier facing out – smooth mother-of-pearl buttons, scratchy Crownsguard patch, studs on his belt.

Would it help? She had no idea. She had no idea, if she got right down to it, if they would ever make it as far as Gralea. But right now, tonight, she wasn’t thinking that far ahead. She refused to dwell on what might happen, what could go wrong. Because right now there was nothing she could do about getting them any farther along but right here, right now, she could make Ignis’s life just a little bit more normal.

She stuffed the last roll of socks down in the side pocket of his bag just as the water shut off in the bathroom. Something clattered to the floor, Ignis said something sharp, and Aranea shook her head, smacking the start button for the wash cycle before going to check on him.

“Did you drown?” She opened the door and waved a hand, clearing the steam from her line of sight. “Damn, Specs. You look shorter with your hair all floppy.”

He ignored the barb and slung the towel around his hips. “Whatever technology you are using to keep the water hot for a full fifteen minutes needs to be worldwide,” he insisted, taking a step towards her voice.

She put her hand on his chest to stop him while she picked up her shampoo bottle and pitched it into the sink. “It’s nothing fancy,” she shrugged, taking his hand again and leading him the few steps back to her bunk. “Just a crappy patched in job that doesn’t have a real shutoff.”

“Well it’s a delight and you need to send your plumber all over Lucis, breaking every hotel bathroom shower he finds.”

Aranea chuckled and put Ignis’s hand on the spot she’d left his clothes as a familiar voice called to her from outside. “That’s Biggs with dinner. I’ll be right back.”

He pulled on his clothes, only hitting his head once on the shelf over her bed. That had to be some sort of record.

Aranea was back in a matter of minutes, balancing two bowls full of steaming beans, rice, and sausage and two empty glasses with forks rattling around in them. Unloading all the stuff on to the countertop, she said, “Biggs isn’t as creative a cook as you are, but what he does he does really well.”

“I doubt I’ll be doing any cooking in the future,” Ignis admitted, feeling his way back, folding his legs up in front of him as he leaned back against the wall.

“Not with that attitude you won’t,” she said, waiting for him to get settled before handing him a bowl and a fork. “You’ve got bigger things to do first, but after you restore the Crystal who knows?”

She poured their drinks while he started eating, nodding in appreciation. “What is this? It’s delicious.”

“No idea. I set things on fire trying to boil water. You’ll have to ask Biggs.” Aranea joined him on her bunk, pulling her legs up under her as she ate.

A comfortable silence fell as they enjoyed the meal. She wanted to ask him what happened, wanted to know, wanted explanations. But that wasn’t what he needed. The more normal things were, the more he relaxed and asking right now would mess that up. And right now? She realized that she would probably happily murder anyone who made him tense back up again, herself included.

“I had no idea,” he said giving the fork one last lick, “That you were so determined an optimist.”

“And I had no idea that you were capable of having such awful table manners,” she returned, taking his bowl and fork from him. “And I’m not an optimist. I’m a realist.”

“Quit moping, keep hoping,” he quoted back to her.

“What does anyone gain,” she asked, handing him a glass, “By getting stuck focusing on what might be? Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow when today has plenty of its own.”

He considered this for a few minutes and didn’t seem to come to any solid conclusions. “Is that why you’ve absconded with me? To give me a dose of realism?”

“You just aren’t going to let this go are you? Fine,” she relented, plopping back down next to him on the bed and lacing her fingers through his. “I dragged you away from your happy-go-lucky buddies out there because I can’t fix any of this.” Her vague hand-wave would just have to go unseen. “But I could get you cleaned up, I can get your hair looking decent in the morning, introduce you to the wonders of women’s razors, and get you pressed, dressed, and out the door looking a little more like yourself even if you aren’t feeling it.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it probably wasn’t that and he was silent for a long time, his right eye blinking slowly as he mulled it over. The alarm on her phone beeped twice, alerting her that the rotation of guards was changing for the night.

“It’s ten now. You need to get some sleep.”

He nodded but didn’t move, still lost in thought. So she stood, pulled him to his feet, and started pulling back the covers.

“Do you know the worst part,” he said out of nowhere, voice almost but not quite shaky, “is the drift.”

“Drift?”

“If I’m not touching something, sitting or standing somewhere long enough to get used to the way it feels, I could be anywhere. Anything could be happening around me and I’d never know. It’s the worst feeling. Like being stuck in that terrifying moment when you’ve fallen off something higher than you should have been on in the first place.”

Aranea blinked up at him and frowned. This was definitely not what they’d both agreed on at Steyliff Grove. Confessions, vulnerability. Neither of them signed up for that and he seemed to sense that, starting to tense up again and close off.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line. I…”

“No, it’s fine.” She couldn’t fix any of this but she wasn’t trying to. What she wanted to do was make right now a little easier for him. She reached for his hand again, pulling him towards her bed and tucking herself in next to him, careful to keep his hand wrapped in hers. “I’ve got you for now. You’re not going to drift away. Not while I’ve got a hold of you.”


	2. Backup

“Aranea,” the sound was nothing more than a breath in her ear and she snapped awake instantly. She would have moved, at least far enough to get her face out of his neck, but Ignis had her held tight, his tension bleeding into her. “There is someone in here.”

And there was, too. She could hear them moving around and see the outline of their body, darker against the dark of her cabin. She nodded once, acknowledging his words without attracting attention to them.

The refugee crisis was intense these days, and her ship, parked in front of the power plant, had been a prime target for the desperate looking for a lot of things. Aranea usually just let them take what they needed – be it medicine, food, or supplies. She had better access to things than anyone else did, what difference did it make to her if someone was desperate enough to steal a blanket that she could replace on the next recon mission?

She did draw the line at having pieces of her ship stolen though, so the fact that she could hear something being removed didn’t do anything to soothe her conscience. She gave Ignis’s arm a squeeze and he shifted his arm into a better position in response.

“Wound,” she requested in an exhale and he nodded. Take off with her engine parts and get away with it? Not in this lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Tumblr's FFXV RarePairs Week, Day 8: whispers in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr's FFXV RarePairs Week, Day 5:Holding Hands


End file.
